The Spark by Vi Keeland
CHAPTER 18
Autumn
“What do you think of this?” I pulled a green silk dress I’d bought but never worn out of my closet and pressed it against my body before turning to show Skye.
“It looks Gucci with your skin and hair.”
My forehead winkled. “Gucci?”
Skye rolled her eyes. “It means it looks hot. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re in your twenties. Your vocab is the same as my mom’s.”
“Uhh. Thank you?”
She flipped the page of her magazine while sitting on my bed with a smirk. “It wasn’t a compliment.”
I chuckled and walked over to the mirror. “Do you think the material is too clingy?”
She flipped another page, lifted the sample flap on a perfume advertisement, and brought it up to her nose for a sniff. “There’s no such thing as too clingy. Where are you wearing it? Also...” She wrinkled her nose. “This smells like shit.”
“Let me smell.” She held out the magazine, and I walked over and smelled the page. “I like it.”
She shook her head again and mumbled under her breath. “You really are turning into my mom.”
At twenty-two, Skye was only six years younger than me. But sometimes it felt like she could be my child. That’s probably because she’d been an actual child when we’d met six years ago.
“What’s the dress for?”
“Court tomorrow with one of my kids.”
She shut the magazine and wiggled her eyebrows. “Ahh…the hot, rich lawyer who steals shampoo from hotels and has a shitload of plants. What’s going on there? I need all the details. Did you see him again?”
I nodded. “Yeah…and things got a little complicated.”
“Complicated good or complicated bad?”
“I sort of went to a party with Blake—I told you they work at the same firm. Technically Blake is one of Donovan’s bosses. Anyway, at the party, I wound up making out with Donovan in a bathroom.”
“Holy crap.” She tossed the magazine to the side and clapped her hands together. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I sat down on the bed and sighed. “I don’t, Skye.”
“So dump the other guy.”
“It’s not that…”
“So what is it?”
“I’m just… I’m not ready.”
“Okay, well…what are you doing to make yourself ready?”
I frowned. “You’re throwing my own words back at me, aren’t you?”
“Nope. I’m just recycling good advice.”
I smiled sadly. “I know, I know. I lectured you and pushed you for years. You don’t have to remind me what a hypocrite I am. I’m good at talking the talk, but apparently not so good at walking the walk.”
Skye took my hand and squeezed. “It’s okay. We walk when we’re ready to walk. But maybe you need to start taking baby steps.”
“I have been. I’ve been dating the last few years.”
“No, you’ve been having sex with men you see no future with. You only date guys who aren’t looking for an emotional connection. The one time you really connected with a guy, you spent a weekend with him and wouldn’t have sex. Don’t you think that’s an issue? You’ll sleep with a man you’re not that into, and won’t with the one you are. I’m not sure that counts as taking baby steps. It’s more like crawling.”
I blew out a deep breath. “Maybe. But I like things the way they are.”
“Do you really, though? The thought of hot lawyer banging some other woman doesn’t bother you?”
Skye and I had made a pact years ago never to lie to each other about what we were feeling. No matter what. We’d gone through some pretty hard truths, so I wasn’t about to lie to her now.
I frowned. “That actually makes me feel like throwing something—like a lamp out the window, without opening it first.”
“Oh, honey.” She smiled sadly and squeezed my hand again.
Ten minutes ago, I’d felt like Skye was my daughter, and now she felt like the more mature one. In some ways, she had grown more than me. She’d even had a serious boyfriend for almost a year now. And while I dated, I kept things limited to sex. Until last year, I hadn’t met a man who interested me enough to want more. Then I lost my luggage and fell hard in only three days. But I’d run the other direction as fast as I could, and eventually stopped thinking about him every day—until life threw me a cruel curveball.
“When was the last time you talked to Lillian?”
Lillian was my and Skye’s therapist, and the way we’d met. Usually I never ran into another patient while I waited for my weekly appointment. Lillian’s office was super private and discreet—she had two separate waiting rooms so patients never had to see each other. But one day I was early, and Skye came in crying without an appointment. The receptionist mixed up the rooms, so the two of us wound up sitting across from each other. It only took fifteen minutes of talking for us to bond, and the rest is history.
“It’s probably been about two years now,” I told her.
“Do you think maybe it’s time to go back? You’re doing amazing—don’t get me wrong. But you deserve so much more out of life.”
I sighed. I’d stopped going because I didn’t feel broken anymore. When I’d started seeing Lillian, I was a mess of shattered glass. She’d helped me put all the pieces back together. It wasn’t until now that I realized that my pieces were just taped together, not permanently glued.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” Skye smiled. “Now give me details on the kiss.”
“It was…” I shook my head. “Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I completely forgot where we were and felt lost in the moment. It’s hard to explain, but Donovan just has this gruffness to the way he touches me that makes me feel like he’s losing his mind for me, and it’s the sexiest thing ever. It was like that the weekend we spent together, too. He’s almost dominant when things get physical, which I’d normally hate, but I know in my heart it’s not a control thing for him. It’s more of him expressing how much he wants me. If one of the partners hadn’t interrupted, I think we might’ve ended up having sex against the wall.”
Skye’s eyes bulged. “You got caught?”
I shook my head. “We almost did, though. But I was able to slink out, and then I feigned being sick and Blake drove me home.”
“Have you seen him since?”
“Donovan? No. We talked on the phone later that night, and I told him I thought we should keep our distance.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About two weeks.”
“So you haven’t had contact with him in a while, then?”
“Well, that’s the odd thing. After we talked on the phone, he didn’t contact me for almost a week. But then I got a text one night that just said I miss you. I didn’t respond, and the next day I got a huge bouquet of flowers with a note that said Still thinking about you. And every day since then, he’s done something like that, but we haven’t seen each other or spoken in two weeks.”
“Huh…”
“Huh, what?”
“He doesn’t know anything about your past, right?”
“No, why?”
“Because he’s giving you space, but letting you know he isn’t going anywhere. That’s exactly how you handle someone like us, yet he doesn’t know the history.”
“He’s very smart and intuitive.”
“So then he’s probably figured out that you’re falling in love with him and are just scared.”
I wasn’t falling in love, was I?
Skye saw my expression and laughed. “You’ll figure it out eventually. Now come on, we have four episodes to watch. I’m dying to know what the story is with that crazy bitch who got taken out of the rose ceremony after fainting.”
***
“Good morning.”
Was it possible to be sexy with only two words? I hadn’t thought so. But Donovan Decker seemed able to accomplish it—and at only eight forty-five in the morning on a Monday, too. I wasn’t sure if it was the three-thousand-dollar, well-fitting suit covering the mass of tattoos I knew were hidden underneath, or the cocky smile that tugged at his lips while his deep voice stayed so steady. Good morning. Fuck my life.
I sighed. “Good morning.”
Storm looked up from his phone for a half second. “Hey…”
“It’s about to open up and pour any minute,” Donovan said. “Why don’t we go inside, and I’ll find us an empty room to talk before we have to see the judge?”
“Okay.”
The courthouse had one of those revolving turnstile doors. Donovan held his hand out for Storm to enter first. Once the next compartment came around, he held his hand out for me. But he surprised me by hopping into the tight little area right behind me. And if I wasn’t already thrown by the proximity, I felt his hot breath on my neck as he whispered in my ear. “You look beautiful. Green is my second-favorite color on you.”
I almost tripped navigating the rotating door, but I made it out the other side, glad to have a little air. Donovan seemed perfectly fine.
“Right this way,” he said.
We walked down the long corridor to the last room on the left. Donovan opened the door and peeked inside. Finding it empty, he opened it wider. “Let’s go in here to talk.”
Storm went first, and then it was my turn. “What’s your first favorite?” I asked as I passed.
Donovan’s eyes sparkled. “Nude.”
This is going to be one long morning.
The playfulness stopped once Donovan put on his lawyer hat and explained the terms of the deal to Storm.
“Do you understand everything I just told you?”
“Yeah. If I don’t get in trouble for a year, the charges get dropped.”
“Right,” Donovan said. “But what happens if you do get in trouble during the next year?”
“Really?” Storm said. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Storm…” I warned.
Donovan smiled. “It’s fine. I know it seems like I’m asking you a simple question, but the answer isn’t as simple as you think. If you get in trouble during the next year, the pending charge is reinstated, along with any new charges brought against you. That means one family court judge sitting on two offenses at the same time. It sounds like semantics, but a judge who has two charges in front of his nose is going to feel obligated to teach you a lesson, so the outcome could be more serious than two different judges presiding over two different charges six months apart. That might not be fair, but that’s the truth of the matter.”
“So what do I do? Take the hit with this one to have a better shot the next time?” Storm asked.
“No.” Donovan leaned forward and made sure he had Storm’s attention, then he spoke slowly. “You make sure there isn’t a next time. There can’t be a next time, Storm.”
“Fine…” he grumbled.
“I mean it. You will wind up in a bad place you won’t come back from.” Donovan lifted his arm and pushed up his shirtsleeve, exposing his watch…but he also flashed a glimpse of his tattoos. Storm’s eyes snagged on the ink before meeting his lawyer’s again, and it made me wonder if Donovan had needed to check the time on his watch at all.
“Fine. I get it,” Storm said.
Donovan nodded. “Good.”
“Are we done now? I have to take a piss.”
“Yeah, we’re done,” Donovan said. “I’ll walk you to the restroom and see if the judge is running on time this morning.” He turned to me. “Be back in a few.”
A few minutes later, a bailiff opened the door to the room I sat in alone.
“Oh, sorry. I thought Decker was in here.”
“He is,” I said. “Or he was. He just walked down to the restroom. He should be back any minute.”
“Alright. Would you let him know there’s a change of plans and Judge Oakley is ready for him now?”
“Oh, okay. Thank you. I’ll let him know.”
When Donovan didn’t come back after a few more minutes, I gathered up my things and decided to go look for him. I spotted him standing outside the men’s room, talking to the man I recognized as the prosecutor from the last time we were here. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I waited for them to finish from a few feet away, figuring I’d give them privacy. But apparently I hadn’t waited far enough away to avoid their conversation.
“So what’s the deal with the woman who comes with your client?”
“She’s his social worker.”
“Any chance you know if she’s single?”
Donovan took a minute to respond. “Happily married with six kids. Husband’s a pro boxer.”
“Shit. Okay. I’ll keep my distance.”
“Good idea.”
Storm came out of the bathroom and walked over to me, rather than Donovan. So Donovan turned to follow him and found me standing maybe six feet away. He studied me, probably trying to figure out if I’d overheard.
I raised an eyebrow and smirked.
He chuckled to himself and turned back to the prosecutor. “I’ll see you inside.”
When he walked over, the grin was still on his face.
“I think a gun-toting cop would have been more effective than a boxer.”
Donovan laughed and put his hand on my back. “You’re probably right. But come on, let’s go in and get this deal sealed.”
As we walked toward the courtroom, Donovan’s phone began to buzz. He checked the caller ID and his step faltered.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s Bud. He doesn’t usually call during the day. He actually rarely picks up the phone at all. But I’ll call him back when we’re done. They’re ready for us.” Donovan opened the door to the courtroom.
He settled at the defendant’s table with Storm, and I took a seat in the row behind them in the spectator’s section. While we were waiting for the judge to take the bench, I noticed Donovan pull his phone out of his pocket again and look at it. His face looked troubled, but the bailiff took his place, and then court was called to order.
The entire process took less than five minutes. It made me sad to see just how routine it was to have a twelve-year-old kid stand in front of the judge so felony charges could be read aloud. Once the prosecutor said he’d agreed to a deal with the defendant, the judge barely even looked up before he banged his gavel and the entire thing was over.
Donovan packed up, and the three of us headed out of the courtroom. Back in the lobby, he took out his phone again. “Excuse me for a minute.”
He took a few steps away, but I overheard his side of the conversation.
“What’s up, Bud? Everything okay?”
Pause.
“Shit. Where are you?”
Pause.
“What happened?”
Pause.
“I’ll be there in a half hour.”
Donovan looked frazzled when he turned back.
“What’s going on? Is Bud okay?”
“He…” Donovan looked over at Storm and clearly changed directions. “He’s fine.” Then he caught my eye and let me know everything was not fine.
“We’re a done deal here.” He turned to Storm. “Keep yourself out of trouble. I don’t care if trouble comes looking for you. You run the other way.”
Storm rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Donovan gestured toward the door. “I need to take off. You guys okay getting out of here yourselves?”
“Yeah, of course.” I nodded. “Go ahead.”
I’d barely gotten the words out, and Donovan was already rushing toward the exit. Luckily, Storm was so busy making up for the whopping eight minutes he couldn’t be on his phone that he didn’t seem to notice anything strange.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you back to school.”
***
I’d been the one to say Donovan and I needed to keep distance, yet I couldn’t leave things the way they’d ended today. After I dropped off Storm at school, I went back to my office to dig into a mountain of paperwork. But I couldn’t focus. I was worried about Bud and wanted to make sure he was okay. So I shot off a quick text to check in with Donovan.
Autumn: Is Bud okay?
Ten minutes later, my phone chimed with a return text.
Donovan: He was robbed last night. They stole his van. He tried to fight them off, so they beat the hell out of him.
Oh no!
I started to type back, but then decided to call. Donovan answered on the first ring.
“Is he okay?”
“He will be. He’s a tough old bastard. He’s got a bruised kidney from a boot kicking him in the back, a broken arm, and some stitches in his face. But the doc said he’ll make a full recovery, though they want to keep him a night or two for observation. When I got to the hospital, he was trying to take out the IVs himself and sign out against medical advice.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he didn’t have anyone to serve dinner tonight. I’m not even sure how the hell he planned on cooking anything when the van they stole had everything he uses in it.”
“Oh my God. That’s crazy.”
“He only agreed to stay because I promised I’d deal with dinner tonight.”
“I can’t believe he worries about that more than his own health.”
“No shit.” Donovan sighed.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Nah. I already recruited my buddies from the neighborhood to help me serve tonight. I’m just going to pick up twenty buckets of chicken from KFC and mashed potatoes.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea.”
“I just hope he doesn’t try to escape again while I’m gone.”
“I could go sit with him, if you want. Keep my eye on him.”
“That’s okay.”
“No, really. I’d be happy to visit him, if you don’t think he’d mind me stopping by.”
“It would probably make his year. Not only are you beautiful, it will give him a chance to tell you more stories about me from when I was a kid that you have no interest in listening to.”
“Who says I have no interest in hearing some juicy stories about you?”
Donovan laughed. “Fine. He’s at Memorial Hospital. The neighborhood isn’t great, so park in the parking lot under a streetlight.”
I smiled. “Yes, Dad.”
“I’m serious. I don’t need the both of you being robbed in twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll park somewhere safe.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there any particular time you think I should stop by?”
“I’ll stick around until probably five. So anytime after that, he’ll be alone.”
“Okay. I’ll go by right after work.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. I’m happy to do it. I like Bud a lot.”
“Alright. Just be careful.”
“You, too. If they’re willing to beat up an old man for a van, Lord knows what they’d do for your fancy car.”
After we hung up, I sat at my desk for a long time, feeling a rush of emotions I wasn’t sure what to do with. I felt terrible about what happened to Bud, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d feel if something had happened to Donovan. Some of the things rattling through my head I could deal with—that I’d feel sad, upset, angry, scared. But the one emotion I couldn’t seem to accept was regret.
I’d spent years regretting things I’d done, or the way I’d handled them, until I’d finally come to forgive myself and accept that what happened was not my fault. I’d used regret as a way to punish myself, and here I was doing it all over again.
So I did something before I changed my mind. I picked up my phone and dialed the therapist I hadn’t seen in two years.
“Hi. This is Autumn Wilde. I’d like to make an appointment...”
